Wild Child
by Two Guns and a Knife
Summary: We pay the price and reap the consequences of our actions. A story about a boy and his journey. A story about heartbreaks, love, regrets, and true happiness. Theme songs: In Dreams by Edward Ross from the soundtrack of The Fellowship of the Ring and Wild Child by Enya.
1. The Boy

**Wild Child**

**~Chapter One~**

**The Boy**

He wiped away his tears and put on his socks and shoes. He started packing his things. His favorite story book. His water bottle. The rest of the chocolate chip cookies. The Batman action figure Grandpa bought him as a birthday gift. And the map he'd printed out from the Internet.

He turned off the light and closed his bedroom door. His parents' room was very quiet. His father had stormed out of the front door and in anger driven away. His mother had, once again, cried herself to sleep. Their old family dog had passed away the year before the last. He had no one left to say goodbye to.

Slowly he walked down the stairs. With every step he calmed down a little more. He was a big boy now. He wasn't afraid. He wouldn't get lost. His backpack wasn't that heavy. Without a backward glance he left his home and walked into the night. He had one goal in mind. Like all the heroes in stories, he had to set out to find his destiny. He had to leave everything behind. His journey might be uneven or maybe full of danger. He would be brave. He would make smart choices.

Light spring breeze blows through his curly hair. He kept his brown eyes on the road ahead. The streets were quiet. The houses by the side of the road were mostly dark. From time to time a dog barked. From time to time someone laughed. From time to time he felt like crying. He held back the tears. He needed the answer now. He would not turn back. He was still too young to understand the concept of life. However, he had had enough. No one told him anything. Something had been very wrong. He would find the truth all by himself. Everyone told him he was a clever kid.

He stopped to drink some water and ate a cookie. He checked the map. He looked straight ahead and saw the building. His heart raced in his rib cage. He braced himself and resumed walking. Finally, he stopped in front of the building. He walked in. The man behind the desk in the lobby looked at him without expression. He carefully took the slightly wrinkled business card out of his pocket and asked for the owner of the company. He took the elevator to the 5th floor. He looked around the empty conference room and started feeling a little bit nervous. A man walked in. Tall. Dark. Without making a sound.

"Mr. Manoso?" His voice cracked a little. The man held his gaze and nodded. Suddenly he felt very small and tiny. The long walk had worn him down and he had a taste of true helplessness for the very first time. "My name is Justin Morelli." The boy blinked and swallowed hard:

"Are you my real father?"


	2. The Man

**~Chapter Two~**

**The Man**

The boy's eyes reminded him of Stephanie.

The little face. The little frown. The brave curiosity. The brave uncertainty. The expectation. The fear.

He, too, had thought about the same question. He knew what the answer was. The woman he'd loved in his own way. The day she'd let another man put the ring onto her finger. Do not covet someone else's woman. His moral code. The day they both put an end to their complicated relationship. Personally, and professionally. They had chosen their different paths. The day she had quit her job. The day she'd decided to change herself and evolve into someone else. The last night they'd shared together. The look in her eyes when she'd left the next morning. The smile on her face when she'd turned to say goodbye. He hadn't been invited to the wedding.

How fragile the little boy was.

How thorough had they broken his tiny heart?

He could taste the answer on his tongue. He felt the impulse to hold the child in his arms. He looked the boy in the eyes. He felt the urge to protect him at all costs.

Upstairs in the bedroom of the 7th-floor apartment slept his bride and their newborn child. The ring felt warm against his skin.

He had to be honest.

His voice was very soft:

"No."

The boy burst into tears.


	3. The Father

****~Chapter Three~****

**The Father**

He could always feel this tinkle of doubt. Lurking. Deep down. Somewhere. In the back of his mind. At the very bottom of his stomach. In a quiet corner of his heart. Like a shark. Like a serpent. Like a small deadly poisonous spider.

He was too proud to do a test.

He wanted to trust Stephanie.

Exactly 9 months after the wedding, the child had been born. The dark eyes. The lips. The shape of the nose. Everyone said the child looked like Stephanie. Sometimes he thought maybe he was just being paranoid.

Their marriage had been full of bumps.

She was an OK cook. Their house was reasonably clean. Her morning sickness had ruined all the fun. The constant disagreements. The daily fights over trifles. Their life had fallen into a routine too soon. He didn't want to get another dog. She refused to try again after three miscarriages.

He didn't know what'd gone wrong. He wanted a little girl. And another boy. A son of his own—

Yeah. He wasn't being fair. He wasn't thinking straight. It was not Justin's fault.

But.

He gulped down the vodka. Icy cold. Peppery flavor. Burning his throat. Eating through his soul.

But sometimes, when he saw the child's face, a tug of uncertainty surfaced.

He looked down at his wedding ring. The kid didn't remotely look like him.

He gestured to the bartender for another shot. Tonight he didn't want to go home.


	4. The Woman

**~Chapter Four~**

**The Woman**

Flesh of my flesh. Blood of my blood. All the would haves, could haves, and should haves. She twisted and turned in her sleep. The coffee mug on the nightstand smelled of whiskey. She needed help to fall asleep. She wasn't a fan of sleeping pills. If only. If only. If only. The modest diamond on her wedding ring. Had she become her mother? Had she become her sister? Should she care? Should she lie? Should she smile and say something? Something nice. Something lame. Something funny. Something that would heal all the wounds. Something that would change everything.

In her dream, she kept falling. She wanted to fly, but she had no wings. She looked around as she fell. Darkness. Dimness. She didn't feel a thing. She was lost, that much she knew. There was nothing she could do about it. she spread her arms. She kept falling. She wasn't crying. She wasn't laughing. Life. She whispered to herself. Life. Was she still pretty?

She twisted and turned in her sleep.

She kept falling.

She had long stopped asking herself silly questions.


	5. The Friend

********~Chapter Five~********

**The Friend**

He woke at the first ring. He got out of bed without waking his wife. He got dressed quickly and drove through the night. He wanted to punch Joe Morelli. He wished he could slap some sense into Stephanie.

The thing he loved the most about his wife was her inability to hide her feelings. People made fun of her all the time. Still she whined about everything. She was lovely, polite, and brutally honest. There was no need for guessing games. She was't perfect and neither was he. They tried their best. They did their best. They loved each other. They made sure their kids were safe and happy.

He felt very, very sorry for Justin. His heart broke a little. He wished he had done more. The kid looked so small in Ranger's arms. God had made a cruelest joke. Everyone had doubted. He had heard the rumours. He was here to return the child to his parents. He was the police. He was family. He should have done more to protect this kid. This unhappy kid. This broken kid.

He wished he had a magic eraser. He wished he could erase everything. Every mistake. Every mishap. Every doubt. Every lie. Every tear. Every faltered step. He should have done something to stop the trainwreck. He shouldn't have just stood there watching. He'd been too busy being everybody's friend. Staying mutual. Living his own life. Minding his own business. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

He felt disgusted with himself. With everything.

He should just wipe away the child's tears, take his hand, and take him home. To what? To his handsome father? To his pretty Mommy? To his loving family?

The lump in his throat. The anger in his chest.

Eddie clenched his fists.


	6. The Other Woman

********~Chapter Six~********

**The Other Woman**

Old flames never die; they just fade away. And love has a lot of things in common with fire. The bright bright light that hypnotizes and blinds the sharpest mind. The merciless heat that consumes everything. The charred remains of broken hearts and forgotten promises. A puff of lingering smoke. The sudden emptiness. The abrupt exhaustion. And the soul-rending, addictive pain.

That was the reason why she didn't look away. She suppressed a laugh and lighted a cigarette. A divorced single woman in her forties. Who and what had she become? Sometimes she used her looks and body to get the job done. Sometimes she spent a whole night sitting in a bar. Sometimes she felt like a female spy. Sacrificing herself for the greater good. Fucking potential enemies and ambitious allies. Pleasing unknown men. "It's for the family." She would close her eyes and let out moans. She would scream. She would pant. She would get down on her knees. She would beg. She would let them make her cooperate and do everything they wanted. She would make them cooperate and do everything her uncle wanted. Her belly was still flat. Her breasts were still firm. Her legs were still lean and smooth and long. A blonde with mob connections. It was a game of give and take. And sometimes, on a night like this, she would think of her younger years.

Joe put down the glass and their eyes met. Joe stood up and staggered toward her. Joe slumped down onto the seat beside her. She could smell the icy vodka in his breath. She could feel his scorching lust and desperate hunger. She put a smile on her still beautiful face. His hand landed on her thigh and bravely moved upward. They'd known each other for too long. They knew each other too well. He leaned in closer. Her smile deepened. The kiss tasted too familiar. They stood up tangled. They found an empty bathroom. He came almost immediately. She bit back her frustration. For old time's sake. For all the lost dreams and hopes. The night she'd told Joe she could never be a mother. The world had gone upside down. Something had fundamentally changed. Joe'd started looking at her in a different way. A part of her heart had been missing ever since.

He sagged against her. The sticky wetness slipped down her thighs. She knew why he was here. She'd heard all the rumours. Of course the child was his. She could so easily see the resemblance. The foul smell of public bathroom enwrapped them. She would never ever say a word.

Stupid rat bastard.


	7. The Bride

********~Chapter Seven~********

**The Bride**

Sometimes he just needed a kiss. Sometimes he just needed a hug. She looked into his eyes and saw all the emotions beneath. She gave him a smile. She didn't say a word. The room was very quiet. Their child was soundly asleep. His embrace was very very warm. She was still learning to be a wife and mother. She wanted this happiness to last as long as forever. Soon it would be dawn and the 7-year-old boy would be safely home. But the problems would not be so easily solved. There wasn't much he could do. Still he wanted to help. _The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known. _Always had to do the right thing. Her Dark Knight in shining armour.

She wished she had the right answer.


	8. The Other Man

**~Chapter Eight~**

**The Other Man**

It had been an one night affair. It had been a bad mistake. They had both been foolish. They'd kissed in the pouring rain. They'd made love like two desperate beasts. They'd ignored his wedding band. They had known each other forever. And now, they were still friends. They would never talk about it. They would smile at each other. She was a married woman. He was a married man. She was Mrs. Joe Morelli. He was Officer Costanza. Their kids went to the same school. And the first time he'd seen Justin, he'd realized the child was his.

He couldn't argue. He couldn't explain. It was a father's instinct. The shape of the boy's nose. The shape of the boy's lips. One look at the boy's face and he'd known it. He didn't have to ask Stephanie. He and his wife, Melanie, had worked things out. They had 2 beautiful kids. One boy. One girl. Every time he attended Church, he felt the panic welling up. Sooner or later someone would find out. The evidence was out there in plain sight. Like the king's new clothes. Sooner or later, someone would point a finger at him. Liar. Cheater. Adulterer. His family would break apart. Melanie would never ever forgive him. Joe would probably kill Stephanie. Everyone knew Joe had been doubting something. Everyone believed Justin was Ranger's kid. God, it'd been just one night and they'd both been lonely.

He sat on the toilet, burying his face in his hands, waiting for the nausea to pass. A small part of him felt guilty.


	9. The Bystanders

**~Chapter Nine~**

**The Bystanders**

The lean dark man and the blonde woman came back from the bathroom.

Everyone in the bar knew what had just happened. No one gave a fuck or damn. They didn't bother to snap a few quick pictures. They wouldn't bother to spread the pics around and wait to see what would happen. It was just another lame story between a middle-aged cop and his high school sweetheart. It was always about sex. It was not about love. It was all about mid-life crisis and your faith in life's meaning. Shit like this happened every day. They had their own sorrows to drown. They has their own problems to run away from. Joe Morelli had cheated on Stephanie Plum Morelli. So what? Syrian refugees are dying in the Middle East. Fukushima Radiation has spread across the Pacific Ocean. Millions of cats and dogs are killed in shelters every year. This is a small small world. This is such a beautiful country. Life sucks and then we die. Nobody gives a damn about anything. They turned their hearts and faces from the frustrated man and the miserable woman and gulped down their beer. The bar would be closed in a couple hours. They still had time to pretend that they could have a little happiness and peace. They didn't care if Morelli's son was actually his. Life is ugly and love is always complicated. The desperate man and the lonely woman paid their bills and left the bar. Some of them ordered a new round of drinks. Some of them snorted. Someone of them smiled to themselves and stared into nothingness.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the 2-story house.

A neighbor across the street peeked out from behind the curtains. She loved these curtains. She'd bought them on a Black Friday sale. She loved Black Friday sales. Who was the man behind the wheel? What did he want at this hour? Why was he here? She didn't recognize the car, but it looked vaguely familiar. She couldn't help feeling curious. Was he a friend of the family? She couldn't tell. She couldn't see his face. She started feeling a little bit nervous. She started getting more and more excited. The Morellis had had another fight earlier tonight. Children are miracles. The tall dark handsome Mr. Morelli should cherish what he had before it was too late. The pale confused troubled Mrs. Morelli should pay more attention to her pathetic front lawn. The roses were dying. The grass needed a good mow. The good neighbor didn't like to judge people. Yes, she pointed out their mistakes. Nope. She never expected them to change their ways. Sometimes she laughed when they failed to make the right and the better choices. Ah, humans. The driver restarted the car and drove away. She raised her brows in surprise. She stood behind the curtains and suddenly felt lost. She'd lost her husband years ago and now she lived here alone. She was allergic to cats and she couldn't stand dogs. There was nothing good on TV and she couldn't sleep. Sometimes the streets were too quiet. Sometimes the neighborhood was too quiet. Tonight was such a night and she didn't want to go upstairs to her empty bedroom. She stood there for a little longer but nothing happened. She went to sit down on the couch. She turned on the TV and finally fell asleep. In her dream, she bought a Powerball ticket.

Eddie Gazarra was not sure what he was doing. The best place for a child is with his or her family. He needed to sit down and have a long talk with both Joe and Stephanie, and he didn't want Justin to be there to overhear everything. The poor kid had fallen asleep in the back seat. He wished he knew the best and the quickest way to make things right and make all the bad things go away. He wished he knew how to deal with this mess. All of a sudden he longed for home. His childhood home. He missed his mother's pancakes and cookies. Maybe that was why he'd chosen to turn the key, step on the gas and run away from the house of nightmares. He stopped the car in front of his house. Goldilocks should never have entered the house. Goldilocks should have left the poor bears alone.

He would figure out a way to tackle this task.


	10. The Morning After

**~Chapter Ten~**

**The Morning After**

Sunlight crept into the 2-story house. The cheerful brightness made everything inside look shabby. The wallpaper. The carpet. The couch. The still and almost stale air. The woman asleep in the not exactly comfortable bed. And her frizzled hair. Noises from the outside street echoed through the emptiness. Last night's dishes were still in the sink. The woman woke up and stumbled out of bed. She sat down on the toilet with her blue eyes closed. The throbbing ache in her head reminded her of what had happened last night.

Just another meaningless fight. Too much heartbreaks. Too much whiskey. Too much bitterness. Too much cliché. Maybe it was time to get another dog. A calm and playful one. A big and fluffy one. Friendly, and well-trained. A fresh start. Wave bye bye to the sad and hurtful past. She flushed the toilet. She stayed on the toilet. What has happened to her life? Her husband's absence screamed too loud. This was not the way to start a day.

The car stopped right in front of the 2-story house. The man locked the car door and headed for his home. He'd woken up, naked, in Terry's bed. They'd kissed. They'd made love. He hadn't bothered to take a shower. His stomach was empty. His steps were heavy. He was still a bit too drunk. He could still smell Terry. Expensive French perfume and the best pepper vodka. She'd been as good as he remembered. He'd come too early. He closed the front door behind him. Everything looked the same in the living room. The absurdity of life. His betrayal. Stephanie's betrayal. And the child that wasn't his. He turned his head and there was no breakfast on the table. A bird chirped on an outside tree. Suddenly he felt angry. He needed to piss.

He reached the top of the stairs. Stephanie came out of the bathroom. They stared at each other. He thought of his bucket list. All those sex positions, toys, and tricks. All those yelling and fighting and her miscarriages. His flesh and blood. His precious little babies. They hadn't even had the chance to see this world. He tried to smile. He tried to hide his anger. He tried. And he failed. "Cupcake," He leered with all his might, "You look like crap."

She stood there glaring at him. She didn't respond. And the blueness of her eyes made him mad. He took a step closer. He leaned in to make sure she could smell his breath. He grabbed hold of her breast hard enough to leave a bruise as she detected a hint of Terry's perfume. He smiled with all his charm as she paled. He was glad that he was hurting her. All the time she'd been fucking Ranger. "Yeah, I fucked Terry twice—"

Her vision went blank.

Her anger roared.

And then she pushed.

He came tumbling all the way down the stairs.

She stood there, on top of the stairs, shaking, trembling, looking down.

She let out a scream.

The universe shattered into tiny little pieces.

She kept screaming.

He broke his neck.


	11. King of Denial

****~Chapter Eleven~****

**King of Denial**

She crumbled to the floor. Joe's neck was twisted at a strange angle. She could feel the panic rise. Her brain was numb. The house was way too quiet. She could almost smell yesterday's dinner in the air. Joe loved cheese. Joe loved beer. For years she'd been putting his needs first. Had she been feeling guilt? The hours she'd spent with Carl. The nights she'd woken up to terrible cramps. Three times in a row. Joe's babies. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Joe's broken neck. The accusation in Joe's eyes and his sad disappointment**. **She looked down at her hands. There was nothing. No blood. No bruise. No wound. They would have to locate the murder weapon. They would have to track down the witness.

She sat there listening to her own breathing. How long would she have to wait to take off the ring? Who was going to help her plan the funeral and make arrangement for everything? Flowers. Casket. Open viewing? She resented her in-laws and they hated her back. Would she have to get a lawyer? Joe's will and all the other stuff. Joe's insurance papers. The house. She'd love to sell the house. It was too old and too dark. Too many things had happened in here. Her eyes burst open.

Justin!

Had he heard anything?

She needed to check on him. Her only child. Her precious baby boy. Who was his father? Did that even matter anymore? Maybe he was still sleeping. He was such a sweet kid. She was lucky to have him. She stopped right in front of the door. All of a sudden she didn't have the courage to go in. Maybe she should call the police. Eddie. She needed to call Eddie. She went back to the bedroom. She tried her best to ignore Joe's dead body. It was a little past seven. She grabbed hold of her phone and jumped as it started to ring. The house was so quiet that she could hear her own heartbeat.

"Eddie?" Her voice broke a little. Her whole body started shaking.

"Help." There was no stopping her tears. She could smell death in the air. What would people say? What would people think? "Help me..."

Her dead husband's eyes stared into nothing.


	12. Home Coming Queen

****~Chapter Twelve~****

**Home Coming Queen**

He was going to let her off the hook.

Stephanie Plum Morelli.

He almost burst out laughing.

"I was there." He was tempted to tell her, "I was there when Joe stumbled into the restroom to fuck Terry".

Stephanie Plum. Valerie Plum's sister. Blue-eyed babe.

Things hadn't worked out between he and Valerie. Now he was once again single and Valerie had, somehow, become a whale and married to someone else.

Sweet, sweet Valerie. Maybe he should call himself lucky. Maybe he should get sober and stop drinking. Something told him Stephanie had pushed Joe down the stairs and watched Joe break his neck. And maybe she'd laughed. Who cares? Nope. Definitely not him. He was too addicted to the scent and texture of the finest vodka. He was too tired of being a homicide detective. He felt sad whenever he saw his children on the weekend. He was too young to be this depressed. He was not even 50. And he'd seen the pleading look in Eddie's eyes. Eddie. Good man. Good cop. Good father. Happily married. He wanted to make Eddie happy. Eddie deserved to be happy. But what about Joe? Didn't Joe deserve justice? Joe was, whoops, had been a good cop, too. Joe had been tall, dark, confident, and relatively friendly. Joe had been straightforward and quite good looking. Joe had also been a cheating rat bastard. Just like him. He'd cheated on his wife(now ex-wife). He'd cheated on Valerie. He'd cheated on Ginny. He'd cheated on Gracie. He'd even cheated on Death once. The bullet had miraclely missed. And sadly Joe hadn't been that lucky.

He took a look around the house. He let his eyes fall on Stephanie. She was still trembling. He saw her tears. All of a sudden he felt exhausted. Ebola. He'd been worried about Ebola. He'd been worried about his children. He'd been worried about this country's future. And the war in Syria. And in Iraq. Derek Jeter had retired and the Yanks missed the playoffs this year. Life sucks. People die. And now he was out of tears.

"Fucking accident." He told his young partner. Everyone nodded. Someone from the department would help the grieving widow plan the funeral. Would there be drums and pipes? He hoped they got better cupcakes this time. One day it would be his turn. Would his ex-wife come? Would his ex-wife cry? He shook and head and rolled his eyes. On the way out he suddenly thought of Bob, the big goofy dog. Why hadn't they get another cat or dog? Every child needs a pet. Shelter animals need good homes. Nope. He'd never really liked Joe. His talkative young partner started talking about something unimportant. He tossed him the car keys, yawned, and got in the passenger seat. It was still too early. Maybe one of the neighbors had seen or heard something. This town loves gossips. He hummed silently as the car pulled away from the curb.

_Merrily._

_Merrily._

_Merrily._

_Merrily._

_Life is but a dream. _

Good luck, Stephanie.


	13. Little Prince

****~Chapter Thirteen~****

** Little Prince**

Everything felt like a dream. Stephanie hugged her son tight while tears fell down her cheeks. Eddie had told her everything and she couldn't stop feeling guilty. She could feel all the blaring eyes. Angie Morelli. Joe's several close friends. All the relatives. Some of the neighbors. Nameless passersby. Her own mother. She didn't give a damn. She was free now. And the bruise on her breast was still there. Joe had physically hurt her. Together they had ruined their lives. Her only son was an unhappy child. She tried not to think of Ranger. She tried not to think of Carl. She would quit drinking. She would sell the house and move to a nicer place. She would find a part-time job and adopt a dog or a cat. Justin loved cats, too. Let the rumours roar. She was not afraid.

Stephanie pushed the shopping cart around. She needed green vegetables, butter, and potatoes. She thought about making a pumpkin pie, looked up, and saw Terry's eyes. Hatred. Stephanie almost laughed. No one has told her anything, but right here, right at this precise moment, she suddenly realized what Joe had done.

Oh, how cliché. Joe and Terry. Cop and Mafia. High school sweethearts. Both lustful. Both attractive. So what? Stephanie pushed the shopping cart forward. Terry stood where she was, staring. The warmth of Joe's sweaty body. The rise and fall of Joe's heavily matted chest. The way Joe moaned and the way Joe gasped for breath. The moment of ultimate intimacy. Joe was dead and nothing mattered now. The way Terry stared at her. The way the Morelli women stared at her. Stephanie placed a small pleasant smile on her face. She had been daring her mother to say something. Helen had been holding her tongue. It was a war of will between the two of them. And as usual, her father kept his silence as he poured gravy over his mashed potatoes. Everybody was trying to make Justin happy. Stephanie paid for the grocery. The cashier smiled and they talked a little about the weather and everything. They both needed to stop for a box of doughnuts on the way home. Terry stood where she was. Still staring.

Stephanie started her car. She would also sell Joe's car. Maybe to one of the cops. She would give him a good price. Her father would pick up her son and they would talk about. She had a little spare time. Terry hadn't been invited to the funeral. Stephanie stopped in front of her favorite bakery. She went in and inhaled the familiar smell of sugary goodness. She bought a box of doughnuts, and then bought a beautiful day-old birthday cake. "Happy Birthday, Frank." The icing said. And Stephanie thought of the day Ranger'd forked the icing rose off another birthday cake and fed it to her. She walked out onto the pavement, trying her best to hold back the sudden tears. Terry pulled the trigger. One of the bullets tore through Stephanie's heart and she died almost instantly.

Terry put the gun into her mouth and shot herself.

The witnesses screamed.


	14. Boston Crème

****~Chapter Fourteen~****

**Boston Crème**

Frank Plum took hold of his grandson's hand and together they stepped into the bakery. It was the first time he'd been here and the aroma of sugar and butter smelled unfamiliar and different. Frank had always been a creature of habit. But right now it was too painful to go near all the places he'd used to frequent. Bakeries. Cafés. Diners. Pizzerias. They reminded him too much of Stephanie. And the looks of sympathy from people he knew and didn't know were slowly killing him. Angie Morelli had fought, like a mad dog, for Justin's custody. One cold dark night, weeks ago, Vito Grizolli had come knocking on his door and said, in a raspy steady voice, "I am sorry." Frank had stared into Vito's eyes but seen nothing. The bold vicious Vito Grizolli had, somehow, become old and empty. Helen's eyes welled up whenever she thought of Stephanie. Frank simply couldn't stand the sight of his wife's bitter agony. That was why he was here. He had to run away from his home and the woman he loved, as well as all the heartbreaking memories.

Frank carefully looked at the cakes and pies and thought of Pino's meatball sub, Stephanie's favorite. He looked at the doughnuts and cookies and thought of day old birthday cakes, also Stephanie's favorite. Life had to go on and the pain would never go away. And next week they were going to move to a new place, a sunny city, near a beautiful beach. Val, Albert and the girls would come over for dinner this evening. But one chair would always remain empty.

The young woman behind the counter smiled at Justin. Frank paid for the boxes of pastries. They would leave this city behind and they might never come back. A part of him wanted to die. A part of him wanted to stay alive. They would get Justin a pet. They would make new friends. They would take walks on the beach watching the birds, smelling the ocean, walking the dog. Val and her family would move into their old house. Albert's mother, Mrs. Kloughn, had generously helped. Had Stephanie made the wrong decision years ago? Yes, she had. Was Frank willing to do anything to turn back the clock? Yes, he was. But there was nothing he could possibly do about it and that was what made him mad with himself.

Frank and Justin stepped out of the bakery onto the pavement. A police patrol car pulled to the curb and Carl Costanza got out from behind the wheel. One look at Carl's face and Frank suddenly realized the truth. Anger and shock swelled inside him as Carl smiled and talked with Justin. Oh, the subtle resemblance. Frank almost laughed out loud. All these years he'd been wondering. All these years he'd been tempted to have a straight talk with Carlos Manoso. All these years he'd been waiting for his daughter to confess, to tell the _truth_. Slowly he took a deep breath. The shone down through the thin clouds. Carl nodded at him and then walked into the bakery. Without a backward glance. Frank smiled down at Justin.

Next week they were moving to Miami.


End file.
